mistaken, the Governor is a past board member of your institution and currently serves as the lead member of your Council of Advisors. As I understand it, the council is there to advise the board. Do I have that right, Jim?”
“Well-”
“In other words, the Governor is going to be advising the board as to who might make the short list for Chairman and CEO to replace Franklin Dugan. I’m guessing you’d like to think you’re going to make that list. Maybe even top it. I mean, look at you, you’re sitting at the head of the table already. How am I doing so far, Jim?”
Marriott held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Alright, alright. So you’ve got some stones and you’re tough enough to stand toe to toe with me. I admire that. So ask your questions. No one here in this room, or in our entire organization for that matter has anything to hide, I assure you.”
Before I could respond, the double doors at the far end of the room burst open and Donatti and Rosencrantz marched six uniformed security guards into the room, their hands cuffed behind their backs. Donatti smiled and said, “It’s a good thing they all had their own cuffs. I only carry two pair myself…”
It took a few moments to get everyone calmed down, but in the end I got Marriott’s assurance that they’d all cooperate. I told Rosencrantz and Donatti to take the guards out and un-cuff them, and once that was all done, I looked Marriott in the eye and said, “How about we start over?”
The woman seated directly across from me looked at Marriott. “Perhaps we should bring Bob Brighton in, James. Don’t you think?”
Marriott snarled at her. “We don’t need Bob for Christ sake.”
“Who’s Bob Brighton?” I said.
“He’s our in-house council,” the woman said. “My name is Gloria Birchmier, by the way.” She nodded in turn to the other two men at the table. “Dick Hawthorne and Thomas Fallbrook,” she said by way of introductions.
I nodded at everyone. “Alright, so, lay it out for me. Your organization, I mean. The four of you are the executive committee?”
Gloria answered for the group. “Yes. There are normally five of us. Franklin was the fifth. We have a total of eleven board members. All from within the state, except that the others are all from out of town. Two live in Fort Wayne, one in South Bend, and the other three in Evansville. They are all on their way here of course, but it will be a few hours I imagine.”
“Who notified them of Mr. Dugan’s murder?” I said.
“We all did,” Gloria said. “We have a disaster plan in place. Each of us have assigned duties and responsibilities as defined in the plan. One of those responsibilities in the event of a disaster is immediate notification of the company’s Board of Directors.”
“What qualifies as a disaster?”
Hawthorne spoke for the first time. “Well, it’s pretty broad. Just about anything from any sort of natural disaster that would affect our operations, like structural damage to our facilities from fire, flood, tornados, things of that sort-to the sudden death or incapacitation of anyone on the executive committee.”
“Were any of you unable to reach the other members of the board?”
Fallbrook raised his hand. “I had a little trouble with one of my assigns. Bill Acker. But eventually I got him.”
“Home or office?” I said.
“Oh, it was at home. He was just in the shower.”
“So to the best of everyone’s knowledge, the board members who were in town this morning are all in this room, and everyone else, everyone who lives out of town were all…well, out of town?” Everyone nodded.
“Yes, I believe that’s correct,” Gloria said. “Why?”
“Because I’m trying to figure out who killed your boss, Ms. Birchmier.”
Gloria put a hand to her throat. “And you think one of us did it?”
Marriott swore under his breath. “Aw, Jesus Christ.” He picked up the phone and punched one of the buttons. Margery…get Bob Brighton in here. Now.”
Sunrise Bank’s lead council, Bob Brighton entered the conference room a few minutes later. Brighton was short, not much over five feet tall, and gone to fat. His hair was gray and kinky, he wore a yellow bow tie and his pants were about an inch too short.
“How do you do, Detective?”
“I’m well, thank you Mr. Brighton. Your executive committee thought it might be best if you sat in for a few of my questions.”
“Indeed. Please, proceed.”
“He thinks one of us killed Franklin,” Gloria said.
Brighton raised his eyebrows at me, and a small grin formed at the corner of his mouth.
“That’s not exactly accurate,” I said.
Gloria pointed a finger at me. “It is too accurate. You said so yourself.”
“No, Ms. Birchmier, what I said was that I am trying to figure out who killed Mr. Dugan. You were the one who asked if I thought any of you did it, not me.”
“Well, the implication was quite clear, Detective.”
Brighton cut in. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Detective, but these types of investigations are usually conducted, um, what’s the best way to put it? By process of elimination, isn’t that correct?”
I nodded. “That’s often true. But, keep in mind, we also look at the question of ‘who benefits?’ So let me ask all of you this: with Franklin Dugan now deceased, who gets the big chair? Who is going to be Chairman of the Board and CEO of Sunrise Bank?”
“The Board will have to vote on that,” Hawthorne said. “But undoubtedly, it would be one of us.”
“Okay, so what happens if there’s a tie? In the vote?”
“Then we would revert to the question of who holds the most stock. It’s in the charter.”
“So who holds the most stock?” I said.
Marriott rubbed his forehead with the fingertips of both hands. “I do.”
I had everyone except Marriott and Brighton leave the room. When they were gone, Marriott shook his head. “I didn’t kill him. Hell, I was up at six and gone by six-thirty at the latest. I went to the club, worked out, then ate a light breakfast in the dining room. Gloria called me on my cell and told me the news. Plus, there must have been about ten or twenty people who saw me from the time I walked in the club until I left.”
Nothing’s easy.
I had a few more follow up questions for Marriott, none of which went anywhere at all, so I pulled at another thread. “I’d like to ask you about Samuel Pate.”
Marriott snuffed at the mention of Pate’s name. “So ask.”
“Well,” I said, “What I’d really like is your general, overall impression of the man.”
Marriott leaned in, his forearms on the edge of the table. “Detective, we have a rather unique business model here at Sunrise. No other financial institution in the country does what we do. Now, don’t misunderstand what I’m saying-there are plenty of banks out there that lend money to churches and religious institutions all across the U.S. But we are the only one that does it exclusively.”
“If you have a point, Mr. Marriott, so far it’s lost on me.”
“My point is simple, Detective. We are as close as you could come to being called a private bank. We vigorously protect our assets and those of our clients. Confidentiality at our institution is held at the highest regard. I’m quite sure you understand.”
“I’m not asking for his financials, Mr. Marriott. I’m asking for your general impression of the man.”
Marriott looked at me for a full minute before he spoke. “He doesn’t let much get in his way, I’ll say that about the man. But that’s all I’ll say.”
When I was finished with Marriott I stepped out of the conference room and found Rosencrantz and Donatti seated in the reception area waiting for me, two empty plates of shrimp tails on the coffee table by their knees.
“Get what we needed?” I said.
